


Five Things Sam Didn't Do at Stanford (That Dean Might Have), and One Thing He Did

by cofax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cofax/pseuds/cofax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Camille, because she asked.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Five Things Sam Didn't Do at Stanford (That Dean Might Have), and One Thing He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Camille, because she asked.

**1\. Get a Little Pudgy**

The day Sam stepped onto the campus, gawking helplessly at the green lawns and red tile roofs, he was 6'1". He wasn't sure what he weighed, but he knew that he was hungry all the time. Dean had teased him about there not being enough food in the world to keep him fed--which was mostly a joke, except every once in a while dinner was nothing but canned corn and some stale Saltines.

When they gave him his registration packet and his meal card, Sam didn't even stop at his new dorm room. He found a cafe in one of the quads and ordered the first thing on the menu. And the second.

What he got was a turkey sandwich with some weird sort of fruity relish stuff--the menu said it was "papaya chutney"--and a huge salad. But the salad had funny lettuce: it was dark red in spots, and kind of bitter. Not crunchy the way lettuce usually was. Everyone else around him was eating, though, and nobody was picking the lettuce out of their salads, so Sam ate it, and the fruit-and-turkey sandwich. And the pickle and the potato chips, which weren't as salty as the ones Dean always got.

When he went back to the register to order a piece of pie, he got a big smile from the girl behind the counter. "Hungry, huh?"

She was cute. Sam hadn't eaten anything but M&amp;Ms since Salt Lake City. "Yeah, I guess," he said, trying not to blush.

The pie was really good. He ate it all. He meant to go back there for dinner, but his roommate Pete knew a place that had great pizza, so they went there instead, and Sam had three-quarters of that.

He gained twenty pounds his freshman year; and three inches in height. It worked out.

*

**2\. Slept Around**

Sam slept with two girls in his first quarter, one of them three times. Dean would have slept with three girls in the first week, and by Christmas would have been on round two through the girls in his dorm.

Sam was actually pretty okay with how he was doing.

Besides, there was this tall blonde girl in his Survey of British Literature class that had the best laugh.

*

**3\. Skipped Classes**

There wasn't anyone keeping Sam up until 2 AM watching for boggart activity, or dragging him off at dawn to set traps for woodswalkers. No reason to miss class: it was why he was here, after all. Sam had morning lectures mostly, classes where he sat up front (like a geek, Dean would say) and took page after page of notes, scrawling in a looping script that looked nothing like his father's and brother's blocky print. After class, instead of hurrying home to train with Dean and do his homework hunched over the wobbly kitchen table, he lingered in the lecture hall, asking questions about the previous night's reading.

It seemed weird, at the end of his first quarter, to realize that he'd done all the homework, attended all the lectures. Aced all his exams--but that part wasn't really new.

He was halfway through his third quarter when he admitted to himself that, well, some of his classes were bullshit. He knew more than the TA did about European Folklore; that class, he sat in the back and surfed the net, looking for summer jobs and IMing with Jess.

But he was still there.

*

**4\. Hustled his Classmates**

The first time Sam went to Jake's Tavern with Pete and Jordan, he wiped the mat with them.

"Man," said Pete, putting down his beer with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Sam shrugged; Dad hadn't liked Sam spending time in pool halls, but the last few years, he was gone as often as he was around, and Dean still took his babysitting duties pretty seriously. Dean was happier getting Sam a fake ID and towing him along to rinky-dink joints with peanut shells on the floor than he was leaving Sam alone in a rented room or at the library. And pretending to teach his little brother to play pool was a great way to set up a hustle, they'd found.

Dean had the game down: something about the physics of it was hard-wired in him, the same way he was so good with the rifle. It wasn't as easy for Sam: he felt too big for the table, his feet got in the way, and he couldn't read all the angles the way Dean did. But repetition went a long way to making up for natural talent, and Pete and Jordan were the kind of guys who played for kicks once every couple of months. They'd never paid the rent or bought ammo off money earned hustling.

"We had a pool table when I was a kid," Sam said, and swallowed more beer. When he needed more cash to cover the spring break trip to Baja, he went down to San Jose on the train to raise it. It took him two trips, and the second time he nearly got knifed, but that was still better.

*

**5\. Called His Brother**

Over lunch after his second philosophy lecture, Sam pulled out his cell phone.

Dad was speed dial #1: Sam stared at the words on the screen for about three minutes. Don't come back. He blinked rapidly, swallowed, and hit "delete".

Dean was speed dial #2. Jesus, Sam, you're not walking to the fucking bus. Get in, already! But he hadn't said "I'm proud of you," either. Neither of them had. Sam reprogrammed his number to 69, and let himself smile before closing the phone.

*

**6\. Lied**

My dad's got a drinking problem, couldn't really hold down a job, so we moved around a lot.

Sorry? Oh, yeah, my high school had a really good language program, and my guidance counselor said it would be useful.

No, why would I know how to shoot a gun? Kansas isn't exactly the wild west.

I always heard salt was good for ants.

I slept fine, Jess. I never remember my dreams, anyway.


End file.
